


Aftermath

by sophiegaladheon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegaladheon/pseuds/sophiegaladheon
Summary: In the aftermath of her acquittal for the Temple bombing, Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order.  This is what comes next.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yahootoldyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yahootoldyou/gifts).



> Written for the Jedifest Summer Fling fic exchange, for the prompt "Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano"

The steps of the Jedi temple seemed to stretch endlessly before her, the lump in her throat and in her stomach growing with the finality of every jolting downward step. Ahsoka swallowed, and took in a deep breath. She had felt so certain of her decision in the council chamber, had even managed to keep her composure when she made her final goodbyes to her Master, but now, as she walked down the temple staircase towards she knew not what, the overwhelming finality of her choice threatened to overwhelm her.

Ahsoka took another deep breath, re-squared her shoulders, lifted her chin a fraction higher, and resumed her course. _It was my choice._ The decision had not been an easy one, to leave the Jedi, but it had been the right one, she had to trust in that, and in the Force. She would always have that, and all of training and skill she had acquired in her time in the Order, and would have been made a Jedi knight had she stayed. She would manage outside the Order perfectly fine. And to have returned to the Order, after all that had been said and done, would have broken something in her, deep inside. 

This line of thinking carried her down several more flights of the temple staircase before the unwitting image of her Master’s face arose in her mind. She tried to push it away, not wanting to dwell on the heartbroken expression he wore, but his image was only replaced by Master Obi-Wan’s, Master Plo’s, all the faces of her friends, those she cared about and respected among the Jedi. Their faces paraded through her mind, one replacing another as quickly as she tried to suppress them, even Barriss’ face appeared in amongst the montage, although the thought of her image—wearing an imagined look of sympathy and regret, and not the defiance and anger that had been upon her features when Ahsoka had last seen her—was rejected with more vehemence than the others.

Barriss had been wrong. Horribly, catastrophically wrong, and Ahsoka still could not process how her friend had become so twisted as to turn to terrorism and murder, to the dark side of the Force. And to set Ahsoka up to take the blame? Ahsoka pushed thoughts of Barriss away more firmly. It was going to take many hours of meditation to work through the events of the last few days, if she ever would, but Ahsoka did not intend to start before she had even left the temple.

Ahsoka stepped down off the final step of the staircase onto the wide pedestrian thoroughfare that ran in front of the temple. Normally busy with tourists keen to see the fabled Jedi temple, and Coruscanti natives who preferred the temple district for its calm ambiance, today the street was quiet. The chaos and violence of recent days had scared off many, and the increased security presence had deterred nearly all the rest. Only a few stubborn locals, determined not to vary their usual commutes, hurried past in the twilight.

The security forces remained too. Although fewer than had been present during the heat of the crisis, as Ahsoka crossed the wide boulevard she spotted several of the red and white armored figures of the Coruscant guard dotted along the pathway, making their patrols in pairs.

The arching plasteel shelter indicating a stop on one of Coruscant’s nicer public transit lines glinted in the fading evening light. Ahsoka stared at the slowly scrolling timetable displayed on its side, casually leaning against the large planter boxes filled with artfully arranged greenery that decorated the concourse. The next tram that would take her over by Dex’s would be by in less than ten minutes. At least she could get a good hot meal in her stomach while she figured out what to do.

Traffic flew by in the distance, the skylanes as busy as they always were, but the noise barely registered. Ahsoka hopped up to sit on the planter and stared out over the Coruscanti skyline. She could have gone into the shelter and taken a proper seat, but the temple district had some of the most gorgeous views on the planet and she wanted an unobstructed sightline.

It was strange, she thought, how still and silent everything seemed. It wasn’t, of course, as Ahsoka looked up and down the boulevard she could see and hear all the usual sights and sounds of the temple district. The distinction came in the contrast. 

The last few days had been an unending barrage—of sight, of sound, of emotion, of action. To have all that over, to suddenly now have everything stop, was jarring. 

Ahsoka watched as a pair of Coruscant guard troopers slowly walked by the transit stop. They did not alter their patrol or let their pace falter when they saw her, only nodded slightly in acknowledgement. 

“Evening,” one of them said.

Ahsoka nodded in return. “Evening.”

The two troopers carried on with their patrol. Ahsoka listened to the measured, even clicks of their footsteps as they faded away down the concourse. There was definitely relief in no longer finding herself the subject of a planet-wide manhunt, but the dramatic tonal shift was jarring.

The sound of an aircar pulling up to the transit stop shook Ahsoka from her musings. 

“Excuse me,” said the driver, “Are you Ahsoka Tano?”

Ahsoka stared at the man. He was dressed in Senate liveries and the aircar was of the solid, nondescript but expensive looking style she recognized as that favored by the Senate motor pool. “Who wants to know?” she asked.

“Senator Amidala,” came a female voice.

Ahsoka started but couldn’t help but offer up a small smile when she saw who the occupant of the passenger seat was.

“Yes, that’s her,” Sabé said to the driver as Ahsoka headed over to the aircar.

“Come with us,” Sabé said and Ahsoka slid into the backseat. “The Senator heard you were in need of some assistance, so she sent us out to track you down. We’ll be heading back to her apartments now, unless there was somewhere else you wanted to go?”

Ahsoka nodded her assent, and as Sabé turned back around and the driver set off, she allowed herself to slump slightly back onto the seat. A tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying eased from her shoulders. Of course, Padmé would help. She would have some ideas for what to do next.

* * *

He felt as though his starfighter had just taken a catastrophic hit in combat. As though everything was spinning, out of control, equilibrium knocked off balance, and the shots just kept coming too fast for him to process. Anakin stared at the retreating form of his padawan—not former padawan, he couldn't make himself think that, not yet—and focused all his energy into maintaining a calm facade.

The conflicting, nearly overwhelming waves of emotion rose as he turned and slowly walked back into the temple, threatening to overwhelm him. He was grateful the path back to his quarters was nearly empty, and that no one tried to stop him, or to speak with him. The lingering, pitying glances were bad enough. 

They were either still thinking about the false accusations and trial, or the temple gossip mill was even more efficient than Anakin gave it credit for being and everyone knew the truth now. Either way, if someone had tried to express their condolences, or something similarly asinine, Anakin likely would have snapped and done something incredibly un-Jedi-like. Not that that would be new, but despite what Obi-Wan (and everyone else) thought he didn’t go out of his way to flaunt the rules.

The thought of Obi-Wan made him frown and change direction, heading instead to a different level of the residential area of the temple than the one that held his own quarters. He stopped in front of the door that lead to Obi-Wan’s and, without knocking, punched in the access code and stepped inside.

“What the hell, Master? Has the entire Order gone completely insane?” He was nearly shouting as the door slid shut behind him.

Obi-Wan had been standing at the small personal com panel in the corner of the room, his back turned to Anakin as he entered.

“Oh,” he said as Anakin paused for a breath, “Anakin.” He gestured vaguely at the small sofa in the center of the room. “Do come in.”

“I mean, I can accept this sort of behavior from some of the councilors, most of them even, but you? What the hell is wrong with you? Ahsoka is a member of the Order and you just threw her to the wolves. You _abandoned_ her. For kriff’s sake, even Master Koon went along with it.” The last was added almost as an aside, anger and pain and disbelief mingling in a voice that was harsh with emotion.

A frown wrinkled Obi-Wan’s brow before finally, “There were . . . extenuating circumstances, Anakin, we had to consider the evidence presented and how our response would be perceived by the public.” The words only fed Anakin’s anger.

“You let a padawan be threatened with a death sentence!” He was definitely shouting now. “You kicked her out of the order on fabricated circumstantial evidence, let her be tried in a military court, and when she was acquitted—no thanks to the council—she left!” The final word trailed off in a high-pitched wail. 

“I know, Anakin, I know. We were cruel to Ahsoka, and we were wrong.”

About to launch into another bout of accusations, Anakin paused at the quiet words, his breath coming in short, hard pants. He took a moment to actually look at Obi-Wan for the first time since he entered the room. 

The other man was still over by the com panel, leaning against it slightly, one hand gripping the edge tightly as if to hold himself up. He had bruise dark crescents under his eyes, even more pronounced than usual.

“Then why?” Anakin asked finally, “If you knew it was wrong, why do it?” 

“Because we had no other choice. I’m so sorry Anakin.”

The silence stretched between them thinly, fragile and sharp like spun glass, but with no further answer forthcoming Anakin turned and stormed out of the room leaving Obi-Wan still standing in the corner by the com panel.

* * *

The sun was setting over the senate district, the noise from the traffic a distant, muffled din down below as Padmé stared out over her balcony railing. She gripped her crossed arms tightly as she took a deep breath, trying to relax a fraction of the tension that had accumulated over the past few days.

Her relief when the charges against Ahsoka had been dismissed was considerable. Despite her experience in the legal and political arenas, she had not been at all certain she would have been able to prevent a conviction and the harsh sentence proposed. 

Padmé’s mouth curled into a frown at the thought. Admiral Tarkin’s prosecution had been disproportionate and maliciously cruel. She was still struggling to figure out how, in a democracy, that had been the legally validated response of the state. But it was more than that.

After the trial, Ahsoka and Anakin, and the rest of the Jedi present, had returned to the temple. And Padmé had assumed that that would be the end of the matter. Yes, there were still issues to be resolved and fallout to be dealt with—a Jedi had committed an act of terrorism, after all—but as for Ahsoka, Padmé had assumed she would go back to her place as a padawan, firmly by Anakin’s side.

And then she’d received the com call from Obi-Wan. Padmé took a deep breath, and focused on the cool breeze against her skin, and ruffling her dress. The look on Obi-Wan’s face as she answered the com had immediately squashed any feelings of happiness or relief at the outcome of the trial. His face looked gaunt, even more so than usual, and his eyes were bleak, and sunken in their sockets. For a moment Padmé had worried someone had died.

“Ahsoka has left the Order,” he had said, “I do not know what her plans are, but in the immediate future it may be best if she had someone available to offer assistance.”

His voice had been calm, the same smooth tone as always, and it contrasted so sharply with his physical appearance that it almost made Padmé cry. Instead, she simply opened a second com channel to Sabé, relayed the information, and asked her to take one of the aircars from the senate motor pool to go find and pick up Ahsoka. 

She terminated the second connection and turned back to Obi-Wan, waiting patiently on the other line. He had bowed slightly to her. “Thank you, milady,” he had said. So formal, as always.

“It is no trouble,” she had said, “Ahsoka is my dear friend.” _As are you_ was left unsaid. She had paused for a moment, the silence sitting heavily between them. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

He had smiled very faintly at that, at the question filled with so much more meaning than the simple words implied. “No, senator,” he had said, shaking his head, “But I thank you very kindly for the offer.” 

Padmé huffed faintly at the recollection. Foolish man. Both of them were, though in very different ways. Neither were good with their emotions, and the events of the last few days were obviously hard on them. Obi-Wan had clearly been hurting over the com, and if she knew Anakin—and she felt confident in saying she knew him pretty well—he would be as well. For and at one another as much as anything. 

And that wasn’t even counting Ahsoka. Just thinking about what the girl must be going through right now made Padmé want to cry.

Another sharp gust of wind whipped around her and Padmé shivered. Inside, perhaps. It was one thing to mourn the pain of one's loved ones, quite another to catch hypothermia doing so.

The sound of the apartment's front door opening reached her as she stepped inside. Padmé breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she saw Ahsoka pass into the open living room, Sabé a watchful escort behind her.

“Hello Padmé,” Ahsoka said, a small smile creeping across her face when she caught sight of the other.

“Oh, Ahsoka.” Padmé hurried across the room and pulled the girl into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Ahsoka pulled back and shook her head, but her fingers stayed clenched tight around Padmés arms. “No, it’s all right. It was my choice. It-” She took a deep breath, and Padmé noticed very faint tremors running through Ahsoka’s body. “It’s fine,” she finally said. She let go and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “It’s fine. I had to leave. Staying wasn’t- It would have been- I’m fine”

The sincerity and the hurt in those words rang in Padmé’s ears and her heart ached, but she only nodded, and wrapped her arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders, leading her over to the couch. “Okay,” she said, “How about we get you something to eat?”

“That would be nice, thanks.”

A tray of food is brought and eaten, the quiet between them growing thin and stretched. Padmé sat uneasily in the silence, staring unseeing at a proposed amendment to the bacta regulation and trade bill on her datapad to avoid staring at Ahsoka while she ate. Although she considered Ahsoka a good friend, she knew the current situation was likely to be extremely painful, not to mention somewhat outside her realm of expertise. She had no wish to cause Ahsoka any further distress.

Having finished her meal Ahsoka asked, as if picking up on the train of Padmé’s thoughts, “How did you know? About what happened, I mean.”

Padmé paused only for a moment before answering. “Master Kenobi. He commed me and said you might be in need of assistance.”

Ahsoka swallowed hard at that, and Padmé thought she saw the faint glimmer of tears in the corners of the now former padawan’s eyes. Padmé gently lay a hand over Ahsoka’s tightly clenched ones and gave a small smile.

“I know this must be a tremendously jarring experience for you, on top of a long and stressful week. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” She gave Ahsoka’s hands a slight squeeze. “Things are going to be alright.” She could not help but feel the platitude wholly inadequate. 

Her hand was squeezed in return. “Thank you, Padmé.” Ahsoka’s voice was small and tight, and she sounded as if she were going to say something further, but cut herself off.

Padmé wrapped an arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders and gave her a slight hug. “If you ever want to talk, know I’m here for you, alright?” At Ahsoka’s affirmative nod Padmé gave her another hug and rose saying “Good. Then how about I show you to your room?”

* * *

A slight scattering of tea leaves dusted the countertop as Obi-Wan spooned them into his favorite ceramic teapot. He held his hand out up in front of his face to see the spoon shaking, faint tremors running through his hand and arm. He sighed and clenched the countertop with both hands, focusing on his breathing and tried to allow himself to fall into a light meditative trance.

The upheaval of the last few minutes, and the last few days, however, keep crowding at his mind, no matter how hard he tried to let them go, to focus only on the immediate sensory input of the present moment: the smooth tile of the countertop, the soft roar of the water simmering in the teapot, the rush of air in his lungs. For once the peace of meditation eluded him, and the clamorous mix of distress, anxiety, and guilt continued to hammer at the edges of his mind, successively trying to slip past his defenses as soon had he had rebuffed another.

The shrill whistle of the teakettle coming to the boil shook Obi-Wan from his meditative attempt and returned his attention, for a few brief, relaxing moments, to the familiar, comforting rhythms of preparing a proper pot of tea. But with the pot set to steep he was left once again with nothing but his thoughts.

Anakin blamed him for what happened to Ahsoka. Obi-Wan and the council, and Obi-Wan as an extension of the council, for failing to protect Ahsoka as a padawan of the Order, for placing her life in danger from the government she had sworn to protect, and for her choosing to leave when everything was said and done. Obi-Wan could accept the first, and the second, assertions, could accept Anakin’s anger on the matter. After all it wasn’t an incorrect assessment, if an oversimplified one. The entire situation had been one enormous mess, from start to finish. Although Ahsoka’s decision to leave the Order was her own, even if he and the council were responsible in a roundabout way. The choice had been hers, and he would respect that.

He could only hope now that the fallout of it all would be minimized. Ahsoka was smart, competent, and well trained. He was not worried about her future.

Obi-Wan smiled at the thought of the girl who had been his grand padawan in name but more like a second padawan in actuality. Not that he would ever take anything away from Anakin’s teaching and mentorship relationship with his apprentice. Those two made quite the pair. But he had so enjoyed mentoring Ahsoka himself, and working with Anakin as compatriot instructors, rather than teacher and student.

A drip of water on his hand distracted Obi-Wan from his reverie. Raising the hand to his cheek, he was startled to realize he was crying. He wiped his face, shook his head, and checked the time. He’d let the tea steep too long. Oh well. He poured himself a cup anyway, letting the warmth seep into fingers stiff from their death grip on the countertop.

The tea was bitter when he took a sip. Obi-Wan sighed and leaned back against the counter. _Ahsoka will be fine,_ he again reminded himself. _She made her own decision, for her own, very valid reasons. You certainly know what that’s like. And even though it saddens you to lose her from the Order, you will do everything you can to support her as she follows whatever path the Force decides for her to travel now._

At that thought, the com panel in the corner of the room chimed. The familiar face of Senator Amidala appeared as Obi-Wan answered the call. “Senator,” he said, trying to smooth his face into the placid lines of the Jedi master he was supposed to be, “What can I do for you this evening?”

“Nothing, Master Kenobi,” came the soft reply. “I only wished to update you on the situation regarding Padawan Tano.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, but allowed no more outward signs of any emotional response at Padmé’s words. “She is with you, then?”

“Yes, Sabé and one of the Senate drivers picked her up. We ate and I got her settled into a room, she should be sleeping now, or at least trying to.” Padmé looked over her shoulder at something out of the range of the com frame. “She seems to be doing as well as can be expected.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I would expect nothing less from Ahsoka. She is a strong young woman.”

“That she is.” The senator paused and looked appraisingly at Obi-Wan. “And how are things at the temple?” she asked, “I don’t imagine recent events have gone entirely without . . . repercussions.”

Obi-Wan felt the flood of negative emotion temporarily washed away by the good news of Ahsoka's wellbeing begin to once again encroach on the borders of his mind. He took a deep breath.

“Things are . . . quiet,” he finally said, “The details of what happened are still filtering through the temple, so there hasn’t been much of a reaction from the general population beyond what we’ve been seeing. The council is . . . ready to get back to focusing on the war effort.” He shrugged. “It is the will of the force, and most seem to have taken it as such.”

“Most?”

Under better circumstances he would have chuckled at the knowing prod in her tone. “I’m afraid Knight Skywalker had taken recent events quite hard.”

“Well, that is understandable, after all Ahsoka was his padawan.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, she was.”

Padmé stared at him, her dark eyes fixing him like an insect on a pin even through the grainy blue flicker of the holo. “And what about you, Master Kenobi?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, senator, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Padmé kept that piercing gaze on him for a few moments more, his discomfort increasing until she relented. “Very well, master Jedi. If you wish to contact Ahsoka yourself, you are welcome to com this number. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, senator. Good night.”

As the holo flickered off Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh and sat back down onto the sofa. His tea was cold and even more undrinkable now and after a moment he got up to pour it down the sink. 

He was fine. Ahsoka was fine. Anakin would be fine. He was fine.

* * *

The plush furnishings and excellent soundproofing of Padmé’s senatorial apartment seemed to wrap Ahsoka in a comforting layer of warmth. She had cleaned and readied herself for bed, and the lofty pillows in her guestroom beckoned as the stress and recent sleepless nights threatened to catch up with her. But one final duty remained before she could allow herself to retire for the night.

The com call transferred through the switchboard without protest. The familiar face on the other end of the line appeared almost immediately, relaxing for a fraction of a second from stiff military formality into friendly relief at the sight of her before returning to neutrality.

“Hello, Rex,” she said.

“Hello, Commander.”

“It’s just Ahsoka now, Rex. I trust you’ve heard what’s happened?”

“Yes, sir. Ahsoka. Word came down from high command this afternoon.” Rex swallowed. “Some of the men, they’re not, well,” he frowned, “Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes, Rex, I’m fine. And it was my choice to leave.” The lump of sadness began to swell again in her throat at that, but the look of relief on Rex’s face made her continue. “It was a terrible situation and it shouldn’t have happened, a whole mess all round, but leaving? In the end, that was all me. You don’t have to worry about that. Although,” she added with a smile, “I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Alright sir, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Rex was smiling now, too.

“And I’m sure Master Skywalker will have something more to say the next time you see him.” Ahsoka frowned. “Haven’t you heard from him yet?”

“I’m afraid not. We haven't heard from the General since yesterday. General Kenobi is the one who sent through the information about what was happening with you.”

Ahsoka sighed. _Oh Skyguy._

* * *

The sun had long since sunk behind Coruscant’s busy skyline, Ahsoka had finally retired to bed after a restless evening and a long while in the apartment's com center, and tomorrow's early morning meetings and long senate session loomed closer and closer like an encroaching fog bank rolling in over a lake. But even still, Padmé could not sleep. She had let Sabé and Dormé take down her hair, and help her change into her sleeping clothes, but after they had retired for the night she remained restless.

The apartment was quiet as she paced, her slippered footsteps making little noise on the carpeted floor. On the face of things, the day had turned out acceptably well. Ahsoka had been freed from unjust custody and, although faced with the shock of leaving the Jedi Order, was now safely ensconced in Padmé’s apartment where she could comfortably consider her future. The real perpetrator had been caught—although hadn’t that in itself been a shock, a Jedi and a friend of Ahsoka’s no less—and now, hopefully, the Order and the Senate could return to the pressing business of the war effort.

But the feeling of unease twisting in Padmé’s chest refused to lessen. Her thoughts turned to Anakin—she’d hadn’t heard from her husband since the trial. Her only contact from anyone in the Order had come from Obi-Wan, and he had looked terrible over the holo-com. She couldn’t imagine how much worse Anakin was doing. For all she knew Obi-Wan cared for Ahsoka, Padmé knew Anakin felt things ten times more deeply. The loss of his padawan, someone he was supposed to guide and watch over, was not a loss Anakin would take well.

The distressing turn of her thoughts was disturbed by the sound of someone activating the outer door of the apartment and stepping into the entryway. The familiar contours of her husband’s tall form brought with them a wash of relief, and Padmé hurried over to pull him into a firm hug.

“Oh, Anakin,” she said, leaning into his chest, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, holding her close. He leaned down to press his nose into her hair and murmured, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I kept having to answer questions, fill out formwork.”

Padmé finally pulled back and led him over to the sofa. “That’s all right,” she said as they sat down, “You’re here now.” She ran her hand up and down his back as Anakin curled himself around her, seeming to try to get as much contact as possible.

“I failed, Padmé,” he said, his voice small and muffled against her neck, “I failed. I failed Ahsoka. And now she’s gone. And I failed. I failed my padawan.”

Oh, Ani, no.” Padmé switched her hand to run through Anakin’s hair, tilting his head back slightly so she could look into his eyes. “You didn’t fail, you did everything you possibly could for Ahsoka. And it helped, it really did, you found the real culprit and Ahsoka was exonerated. You did good, Ani.”

“But she’s still _gone._ She still _left._ ”

“Yes, but that was her choice. Ahsoka has to do what she thinks is right the same as anyone else.”

“But she shouldn’t have _had to._ I should have been able to _fix it._ ” 

“Oh, Ani.” She took his tightly fisted hand into her own, running her thumb along the back until he relaxed and she could slip her hand into his, interlacing their fingers. “You did everything you could,” she repeated, “And you did a tremendous amount of good. Everything else was out of your hands. You can’t control everything and everyone.”

“No, but they were wrong, terribly wrong. And nothing can fix it and none of them care. Even Obi-Wan went along with it.” The last came out as a murmur, barely audible.

Padmé sighed. As a politician, she could understand why Obi-Wan had made the decision he had, but as a friend she too felt anger at the way in which Ahsoka had been treated. But she had also seen Obi-Wan, over the holocom at least, and he had not looked a man at peace with his conscience.

“The council’s actions were not correct from a moral standpoint, I suppose,” she said finally, “But from a political perspective I can understand them. And I believe Obi-Wan likely made the best decision he could, given the options open to him. It has been a terrible couple of days, for everyone.”

“Why are you defending him?”

Padmé did her best not to start at Anakin’s suddenly raised voice. After a moment, she said “Because he is my friend, and yours, and he is not here to defend himself.”

He appeared to consider this, and the expression on her face, for several moments before his own expression crumpled back from anger to anguish. “I just . . . I failed her, Padmé. I was supposed to watch out for her and I failed her. And now I don’t know how to help her anymore.”

“I know, Ani, I know. But Ahsoka is brave and strong and fearless, you always said that, and she will figure out her own way. And she knows you will help her any way you can, should she ask.”

* * *

Fragmented, chaotic dreams woke Ahsoka from her uneasy slumber. The tension and terror of recent events reverberating through her mind as she shook off the last of her sleep and sat up. It was still the middle of the night, the room inky dark and silent. Her heart pounded as she worked her way through a few simple breathing exercises she knew from her childhood, so easy and reflexive she hardly even thought about it. 

Now wide awake, if fractionally calmer, she got up and headed out into the apartment with the thought to get a glass of water. Stepping into the dimly lit hallway the sound of familiar voices reached her from the nearby living area. Hardly conscious of her own movement, she found herself standing in the hallway just around the corner from the main living area of the apartment, listening to her master’s agonized laments and Padmé’s much quieter consolations.

Her heart turned in her chest as she heard the pain in her former master’s voice. She had not meant to cause him suffering with her choice, although she recognized such repercussions were out of her control. 

She had always had the greatest faith in her master. Skyguy was a great Jedi, she had always believed that. All the younglings believed that, so did all the padawans. Everyone wanted to be like Master Skywalker. And yet, to hear him speak now, like this . . . Ahsoka had always known her master was different from the other Jedi, everyone knew that. But this, this was personal, the sort of tone and admission most at the temple would see at a flaw, a failing of the first order.

The noise from the living area had died down to muffled murmurings. Ahsoka’s stomach churned. Now was the time, long past the time, for her to slip back to her room and pretend she had never heard any of this. But guilt gnawed at her. She held at least partial responsibility for this, and she owed it to her master to try and make things right.

Ahsoka stepped out of the shadowed hallway into the dim glow of the room. “Master?” she said quietly.

Anakin was curled up on the sofa, his head in Padmé’s lap, his face buried as she ran a hand through his hair. But he jerked upright at the sound of her voice. “Ahsoka!” His eyes were wide and he moved to stand, but Padmé placed a restraining hand on his arm as Ahsoka crossed the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Well, I needed some place to stay,” said Ahsoka with a small smile as she took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the sofa, “Padmé sent an aircar to pick me up and offered me a room.”

He looked a bit chagrined. “Oh. That seems reasonable.” He turned to look at Padmé. “Thank you, Padmé.”

Padmé squeezed his hand. “Of course. But, didn’t you know she was here?”

A frown creased his brow to match Padmé’s. “No. Why would I?”

“Obi-Wan was the one who commed me to let me know Ahsoka needed a place to stay.”

“Oh. Obi-Wan?”

“Yes. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Anakin shifted slightly in his seat, staring down at his hands. “I may have not been in the best frame of mind to listen, anyway.”

“Did you and Master Obi-Wan have a fight, Skyguy?”

He looked over into Ahsoka’s concerned face and sighed. “Yeah, Snips. We kinda did.”

Ahsoka’s stomach turned as her earlier worries all returned in a rush. “Because of me?” she asked quietly.

“What? Oh, Ahsoka, no.” Anakin leaned over to take one of her hands in his. “Yes, this whole situation is a mess, and yes, that was why we were arguing, but it was not your fault. I promise.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

Ahsoka nodded slowly. She still didn’t quite believe it, but for all her Master’s faults he was never any good at lying. So at least he believed what he was saying.

“I’m sorry, Master.” The words slipped out, unbidden.

“What? No, Ahsoka, you weren’t-”

“Please, let me say this,” she said softly, looking him square in the face, “I’m not sorry I left, I had to do that. I couldn’t stay, not after what happened, not after everything. It wouldn’t have been right, I wouldn’t have felt right if I had come back into the order after what and how everything happened. So, I can’t apologize for making that decision. I know it was the right one. But I am sorry for hurting you. It was never my intention, and even though it was the result of a choice I know to be the right one I’m sorry it’s the case. I never wanted to hurt you, Master.” 

He was quiet for a long while before finally saying, “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I failed to protect you. And I’m sorry you had to make that decision, even if you see it as the right one.”

“I don’t think you failed me,” Ahsoka started, hurrying on when Anakin opened his mouth to argue, “But I accept your apology all the same. I don’t blame you for what happened, Skyguy.”

Anakin seemed to pause and think on that for a moment before reaching out pulling Ahsoka into a hug. “You know I’m always here for you, Snips, right? Part of the Order or not, I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Ahsoka squeezed him back, her face buried in his shoulder. “I know, Skyguy.”


End file.
